The Finale
by acronychal
Summary: With under 17 days to go till the end, this fic is dedicated in loving memory of the Boy Who Lived.
1. A Plea

_Anything you recognise is copywright JK Rowling and the company which butchered her books into those movies. Enjoy._

Chapter One - A Plea

_11__th__ January 2007._ _Edinburgh. _

Rush. The curious metal contraptions would offer you that particular noise as they shot forwards into their quotidian routine. Simple existence. He envied the simplicity of machines. Including the invisible one he was riding.

In between the busy boister no one noticed a materializing motorcycle. Like trickling water-drops, the vehicle and its rider trickled their way back into visibility. Like shadows they were – visible but unabsorbed by the tired Muggle eye.

He had one target today. One which he would never meet.

He damned the approachable bell tower, the Victorian façade of the Balmoral Hotel, on this bleak wet January night. _Alright, this is it. Finally._

He parked the motorcycle, and surreptitiously drew out his wand, whispering protective charms. Nothing would happen to it. He had sworn so, back then. But now was not the time to dwell on this. He had to disappear into the dark, and finish this.

When the door crashed dangerously open a few seconds later, it presented a very expectant, very unsurprised, very calm and very resolved Joanne Kathleen Rowling.

'You're a bit late' she said. She received a glare.

'And I don't really know why you are here. I'm not canceling anything, the book will be published on the 21st of July. This year. Non-nego..'

'Please don't do this.' He leveled his eyes to hers, defeated, 'Ms. Rowling I'm begging you…'

'Harry stop!' Determined but remorseful, she commanded. 'I won't change my mind. You know this. You've tried for almost nine years to no end. I'm not asking you for your reasons anymore, I won't listen to your pleas.'

He had taken to admiring the marble bust of Hermes. She had already signed it.

'You know, I have concluded…' She caught his attention, 'That you are, Harry, as much a part of my imagination as you are real. If that makes any sense.' She added somewhat guiltily.

It was set. His entire story would be complete. Everyone would know. Everything.

'Harry?'

He was actually quite overwhelmed now. He let it show. Quivering lip, fidgeting hand. _Heart-on-sleeve-Gryffindor to the end, eh?_

'I really wish it was just that.'

'Just what Harry?' She asked.

'Paper. On ink.' He said longingly, a sad smile growing on his face, 'Imagine Ms. Rowling. Harry Potter actually being a conception, a simple idea, not tangible, imaginary. All that pain and suffering, all those deaths. Still effective, still beautifully written, but unreal. How I would love that.' He took to tracing Hermes' bust, and Rowling's signature, 'You know I really could not have asked for a better writer. I mean that, sincerely.'

She sighed, 'Thank you Harry. Sincerely.'

'Well there's nothing more I can do, it was a very pointless visit, in retrospect.' He conversationally noted, 'Congratulations.'

He turned to leave, and walked out briskly, ignored her call and apparated to the ground floor. He pushed the door open angrily and mounted his motorcycle.

A few months. The entire world would open the pages of that final book, and read. His tale would be complete. He was absolutely terrified.


	2. Imagination

_Anything you recognise is copywright JK Rowling and the company which butchered her books into those movies. Enjoy._

Chapter 2 - Imagination

Set in a café middle of London, in the happy energetic spring air, a group of three were being served their respective drinks. On black coffee, no cream, no sugar, concentrated, one lemonade, and one boring glass of water. However, all of them were made more interesting by the nature of their travel: they floated. A bright spring morning when the popular prospect of reawakening seems sickeningly …

' … bestowed with the temerity to stare the entire wizarding population in the face and demand that it be indulged. Hence disrupting the otherwise tranquil, or rather..'

'Yes, yes we know, Snape. You have a vocabulary list you can make a small fortune off of while writing thesauri. Now, I want you to treasure this moment. This is where I tell you to shut up.' Harry Potter bit out. It was spring, it was sun, and it was two-odd months from the finale. He really wanted to relax and sip is extra strong coffee.

'Never polite, are you boy?' Snape sneered. That hit a nerve.

'I told you time and time before, you call me 'boy' again and I'll…'

'What, Potter? Why don't you go about showing me the respect… '

'If you made …'

'That you never had the decency to…'

'Any effort to earn that respect…'

'Earn it? I believe I've secured it as –'

'STOP!' A very annoyed Hermione barked out at them, glaring. And so they did. Each glaring in the others' direction. Snape finally broke eye contact, turning away, and refocusing his glare on Harry's motorcycle, which once belonged to Sirius. He let out a _humph_ in disgust and leaned back in his chair, glaring at his lemonade.

Snape was beyond intolerable these days. Harry knew he couldn't push it much. Despite the fresh start Snape was offered, he still owed too much to his previous professor. Way too much.

Still, Snape went too far.

'You didn't manage to convince her against publishing did you?' It was more of a statement than a question.

'No, she's adamant about publishing.' Hermione gave a sigh at this.

Snape took another sip, 'Have you found out how this happened Potter?'

'For the thousandth time I don't know.'

'Then why have you ignored my advice on working on finding the root of all this. The connections you may have with this writer?'

'Does it matter Snape?'

'Yes, you short-sighted twit, it matters! It matters a great deal!' He asserted angrily.

'Professor.' Hermione warned politely.

'No, Miss Granger, don't give me that tone. I do have enough to mention this to him. Yes Potter, I blame you for all the extra exposure, for all the wizard-world-crazed Muggles that are out there now. She knows every single thought that entered your head in those seven years, so obviously it's you she's siphoning our lives off of. I only thank Circe that it wasn't Dumbeldore she had access to.'

'Well you can't blame him for something he can't control.' She started arguing with him.

'Sounds like something repeated, doesn't it, Granger? A very astute observation I may say. It seems Potter has been the victim his entire life for things he cannot control. I congratulate you boy,' His voice was level, stressing ever so slightly on words he knew could coax a reaction out of Harry. The usual dance.

They both stayed silent. Snape looked from Hermione to Harry and drew back his chair, 'Well,' He said getting up, ' If you are done wasting my time, an impeccable ability of yours, I'm going back to my home. Maybe I'll stop by one of those Muggle Internet cafés on he way. Read some of that wonderful 'fanfiction'. You know what I speak of Potter. Those heated tales where I wind up in bed with Miss Granger.' Hermione blushed furiously at this, 'Or you Potter, or both of you for that matter… the Muggles do write them well, perhaps we should try it…'

'Goodbye Snape.' Harry shut him up.

'Goodbye Potter,' The familiar crack of apparition resounded through the air.

The man was disturbing.

Hermione looked miserable, staring at the untouched glass of water. 'Hey,' Harry said gently, 'Cheer up. Don't let that old bastard get to you.'

She looked up, and he could see that her eyes were serious. 'Harry,' she whispered strainingly, 'In a few months we… have to live it all over again,' her eyes became even more grim, 'we… he's… he's going to die all over again, and there's nothing we can do but face it.'

'Hey, hey,' he reached out and put an arm around her shoulder, 'After that it's over.'

'All those lives, all those deaths, and Voldemort. I … I don't think I'm ready to face it all over again.'

'You don't have to.' He said sharply, 'don't even pick up that book if you don't want to.'

'I'm not a coward!' She snapped.

He just looked at her then. Determined and miserable. He smiled kindly, 'Guess no one can put you off books, Hermione,' This elicited a small teary laugh from her.

'Thanks Harry,' She grabbed a napkin to dry her eyes, ' I have to go, he's meeting me in Hogsmeade.'

'Enjoy.' She cracked away into thin air. He noted at that moment that he still did not like apparition.


	3. Discovery

_Anything you recognise is copywright JK Rowling and the company which butchered her books into those movies. Enjoy._

Chapter 3 - Discovery

_10th July 1998. _

He could finally walk in the open again. He actually skipped around. And ignored the strange looks from the even stranger strangers. Harry Potter was careless, was free, was not above silly little ruminations and overtly exaggerated sentiments on this lovely, lovely July day.

He forgot everything but the sky's blue that morning. How glorious. No one had to die now.

'Hey!' Someone he didn't know called out.

'Yes!' Her cheerfully turned and smiled at them. It was a teenage girl, not much younger than he was, a Muggle by the look of it.

'Hey, hold still,' she examined his face clinically, wonder in her eyes, Harry was till smiling, oblivious to all this.

'Isn't this just the best day you've ever seen?'

'The likeness… it's uncanny,'

'What likeness?'

'Oh come on, no one mentioned it before.'

Harry's face showed an increase in seriousness, and this irritated him, 'Mentioned what, sorry?'

'You look like Harry Potter,'

Harry's face grew pale, his heart pounded like a jackhammer into his ribs and his mind swirled with incoherent but panicked thoughts. He slipped back into the mode of thought which he utilized extensively in the final battle, _Keep calm, quiet down, focus, now act._

'I'm sorry, who?' He played innocent.

'What do you mean who? Have you been living in some sort of Neanderthal haven for the past year? Harry Potter! You know, some bloke with a nasty extended family, parents dead, and then one day some giant comes out of the blue to collect him and send him off to magic school. The best sodding book that's been written for a a while now.'

'B-book?' He stuttered with shock.

'Yes,' the teenager said mockingly, 'come on, if you haven't picked up a copy yet you have to! You look so much like him, exactly like the descriptions. You've never read the first one? There was all this commotion over it, I thought it was some silly little kids book at first but…'

Harry let himself be dragged to the nearest bookstore, listening intently for important information amidst the teenager's long monologue about the wonderful book. Surely it couldn't be, no one in the Wizarding world would write about him and publish it in the Muggle world. Surely…

And there it was.

The display window of Borders, filled from top to bottom with one book. _Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets._

Harry tore inside, and grabbed the first copy he could get his hands on.

_Harry Potter is a wizard. He is in his second year at Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Little does he know that this year will be just as eventful as his last… _

Oh. Dear. Merlin!

He flipped to the inside.

_Acclaim for Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone: _

_'I loved it!' "I have yet to find a child who can put it down.' 'Magic stuff.' ' a stunning novel.' 'a bold and confident debut from a splendid writer.' 'can't be put down'… _

DEAR. MERLIN'S. BEARD.

'Excuse me,' he said quite hurriedly to a member of the staff, 'do you have any more of these books?'

'You mean you haven't bough the first one?' The clerk chuckled, 'You're probably the only person who hasn't on this whole island, I'll get it for you. Anything else?'

'No,' He answered.

'Alright,' the clerk obviously was a bit offended by the curt response, 'It's about the same price as that one.' As soon as he rounded near a bookshelf, Harry took out his wand and transfigured some sickles into Muggle money. He really needed to pay and get out, before anyone else noticed the 'similarity'.

A few hours later Harry was in his flat. Face buried in a pillow. Fists clenching its sides. This was not fair.

How did this writer know. All of it, everything. Him, Ron, Hermione, Dumbledore, McGonagall, she had every last detail perfectly recorded. How did she hold of her memories. How could a witch do that to the rest of wizarding kind? He needed to find this woman, and fast. Maybe the Ministry could do something. He snorted at that. _Grasping at strings now, Harry._ The ministry probably didn't know Muggles could write.

He threw Floo powder into the fireplace and screamed, 'Hermione Granger's office!'

A minute later, Hermione's head appeared in the green flames.

'Harry, what's up?'

'Floo here. Now.'


	4. Ruminations

_Anything you recognise is copywright JK Rowling and the company which butchered her books into those movies. Enjoy._

Chapter 4 - Ruminations

Vain philosophy was his pet comfort these days.

He found peace in the rebound of silent questions off the ceiling, he found comfort in there never being answers. Only questions, never a purpose, or a destiny, or something to find. Purpose and destiny were so fickle, so troublesome. He knew firsthand.

He let out a snicker at his train of thought. His fifteen year old self would have slapped himself silly right now. Talking like this. Oh how he'd changed. No longer active, content to vegetate on this couch, staring at a ceiling and swimming through his own little world. Marvelous.

He let his eyes trail to the window, at this angle he could see his motorcycle parked in front of his building, protective charms intact. He found that relic of his godfather's some time ago. It seemed pretty obvious now really, where was the one place in the Wizarding world which collected enchanted Muggle Artefacts? The motorcycle had sat dormant in Arthur Weasley's garage for a long time now.

He sighed. It was too well planned out. Almost as if some god or force had led everything to a path which intersected with his life. Only that god was a human by the name of JK Rowling.

He wished dearly right now that he could concoct some complex, world-wide plan in which every single human with an iota of knowledge about him and his life.

_Really, Harry, aren't you used to fame and glory and the shit by now. Stop being silly. _He thought to himself.

Four days….

_What am I scared of? _

That question had haunted him for the better part of the last decade. What was it? The end of his era. The final installment of his epic journey. The end of his childhood, and his journey. The markings of a powerful finish.

_How grandiose. _

Harry snickered at this. He really was thinking too much. Perhaps a pastime was in order, Rowling had suggested that once. Go learn Spanish, tame dragons, perhaps save a third world country.

On the other hand he didn't want Rowling to start writing about him again. Or know anything more about him than the Voldemort escapade.

On yet another hand, she did. Know. All about him. Every intimate little thing up till know. Paradoxical as that may sound. As of 1998 he was no longer solely part of her imagination, and yet her imagination seemed to churn out every detail accurately.

She knew of his near perfect marks in the Auror tests. She knew of his graveyard visits. She even showed up at Hogwarts one day, following the exact route he usually took to get there.

What if what she imagined was… different? What if she changed the ending that he knew? Would his world change?

What happened when JK Rowling brainstormed?

Would he notice that his world had changed drastically, that people who existed a day before had just disappeared? People he'd met before would become mere shadows of memories. Reality which he'd embraced would become variable, changeable by the whim of JK Rowling. Was that how it would play out.

_There is absolutely no way to stop it. Is there? _

That terrified him. He had no control over his past, or future, if this was the structure of things. So far she had gotten everything right. Or… and this he cringed at… she had gotten things wrong, and he would never realise because he was at, the entire Wizarding World was at, her mercy.

_Well. At least I can talk and plead with my maker directly._

Fat lot of good that did him over the years. To think, he was worried about Voldemort of all things. This was a fate far more cruel than any prophecy.

Then there was the issue of facing what happened.

_I am a coward. _He silently berated himself, _A damned big one._

What if she killed him in this final book? _A relief, that would be. _He would get what he wanted: he would be reduced to a 17-year-old, ink-on-paper boy forever. Life cut tragically short, saviour of the entire world and happily oblivious to it by being dead. A disappearance. Wasn't that what he had pleaded for a couple of months ago?

And then there was the other outcome, in which the books didn't affect his life. _Not a lot of drama there._ Harry's internal debate continued, _Simply proof of the fact that 'Muggles always get it wrong'. _He snickered at that. Yet, if the books did not affect his life, then how had JK discovered him? How could she share every single thought and event, and then completely miss out on the outcome?

The Minsitry had been very discreet and helpful about this, surprisingly. Bold and opportunistic as he may be, Scrimgeour realised the need to keep this hushed, and since it would take an insurmountable effort from all over the world to cover this up, they simply took the logical course and disallowed the further leakage of rumours of writings of a Muggle about Harry Potter. Harry had to begrudgingly admit that Scrimgeour had delivered.

But the lack of leakage meant more coverage over every time Harry was frustrated in public, and the need for private places to discuss the topic of the books with Hermione.

_Merlin knows what I'd do without you Hermione._ _Well, perhaps I'll ask JK, she'll definitely know. _

Four days left.

He'd better get into a reading mood.


	5. Ghosts

_Anything you recognise is copywright JK Rowling and the company which butchered her books into those movies. Enjoy._

Chapter 5 - Ghosts

"I failed you."

The wind howled terrifyingly around him, beating down violently on the small ragged bushes and the tall trees flanking the edge of the forest. It was here, near the damaged stump that was once a tree, they buried their dead. Thus was the only place where he could become so emotional.

"I failed you all."

_Harry Potter, Wizard Hero! _

"And now the entire world knows. They know how much I failed, but they won't admit it." He sobbed out, "I'm a hero to them, do you see how wrong that is? I was so short-sighted, so reckless with all your lives. It's all because of me."

_Multiple-time defier, and survivor of said multiple times, of Lord Voldemort! Conqueror of the Basilik! Triwizard Champion! Dumbledore's Man! The Chosen One! _

"We buried you. I buried you. I might have written your death sentences. Damn me."

_Empty was the word he always thought of when he journeyed back to the moment at which victory's exhilaration expired, and realization of what is lost comes home. _

"So many mistakes. Too many.

_"What is the meaning of this Potter?" _

_"How did you find that Snape?" _

_"Have you once again been engaging in your arrogance, Potter? Yu have been rather quiet lately, chosen a colossal attempt at deity-dom?" _

_"Professor, Harry can explain –" _

_"Shut up Ms. Granger, or whatever title you go by now." _

_"Don't talk to her like that!" _

_"Yes Severus I must agree with Harry on that. But Harry how did this happen?" _

_"I don"t know Remus," _

_"Did she use Legilemency? Veritaserum?" _

_"She's a Muggle!" _

_Silence. _

_"How?" _

_"I know about as much as you do." _

_"How?" _

"Now they'll read about me, and you. And forgive me, forgive us. They'll put me on a pedestal, and think of me as a hero.

_Reviews in the Muggle world called him "a delight". They extolled his virtues and delved into his distinctive qualities. He had delved into the Muggle world more, and isolated himself from the Wizarding world for a time. In that time, he was miserable. _

"Gods know how sorry I am for that.

_Hermione shaken and disturbed, him in a flying rage. Remus looking apologetic once again, Tonks uncomfortably unsure of what to do. _

_"So tell me! How Can I be real?" _

"I read her books you know. All of them. She gets it all right

_Somehow, he managed to find enough time to read the chapter where Sirius died, and a place away from everyone. He hadn't cried that much in years. _

"And yet it feels so wrong.

_Opening night of "Half-Blood Prince". The crowd, noisy and ignorant, went to pick up their copies, and him realizing that Snape would remain a murderer, traitor, and a damned man. That Sirius would not return from the veil. That one of his friends may die, or be resurrected, on a whim. _

"It feels as if she's missed, my point, your point, all of it.

_His eyes were tired. A few weeks after Hermione had discovered his huge fanbase, he saw fit to explore it. Pairings upon pairings, Hermione reduced to a dance obsessed teenager, Ron turning evil, him turning evil, Voldemort and his mother expressing their undying love to one another, and Snape seemingly banging everything in sight, he had had it. He screamed. What these people wanted to do to him! And only one had that control. Merlin know the small mercies. _

"And I'm the only one who feels this way.

_"Maybe we should just leave it be." _

_"I can't." _

_"Harry –" _

_"Maybe we can change her mind, make her write an even better outcome." _

_"You've been obsessed with this for a year! What if really does mess it up? Why won't you let her write it the way we remember." _

_"What if she doesn't?" _

_"With all those books being spot on I don't see how that is possible." _

"How can you write a book on something so important, so great… she can never understand. I can't understand.

_Ginny"s hair flailing in the wind. Sudden fear over losing her after he"d found a settlement with her. Flashes of words killing her off, and of never seeing her again. _

"I wish … that I didn't exist. It's maddening. Everyday I'm face with the knowledge that I popped into her imagination like any other fable, but unlike any other fable I don't have the luxury of being false.

_Someone calling out to him in the street, telling him he looks very much like a grown up Harry Potter. He rushes off hurriedly. _

_That was the day he met Ms. Rowling for the first time. She had been shocked, then excited. He came expecting to find an enemy, a spy, but, he found someone who was a potential friend. It was extremely peculiar for him. _

"I can't stay long.

_Screaming masses, a united machine of adoration. They live for Potter. . _

"Goodbye."

_This is the way the world ends  
Not with a bang but a whimper._

--

A/N

Well, it's almost finished. The Final Chapter will come out after I read book Seven.

The two lines at the end are T.S. Eliots'. One of my favourites.

I integrated a couple of vaguely remembered reviews of Harry Potter and fics from the internet recall but can't seem to place.

Again thank you for reading this, and leaving the reviews. It is encouraging!


	6. Closure

_Anything you recognise is copywright JK Rowling and the company which butchered her books into those movies. Enjoy._

Chapter 6 - Closure

Seventeen hours left!

Some huge digital countdown displayed through some window gregariously announced this wonderful fact, and he just sat there, staring at it. Scar hidden, glasses off, in plain sight.

"You're that excited as well?"

Someone voiced from his left. He turned to view a Muggle, clutching _Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince_ in her lap.

"Bit of last minute reading?" He asked.

She smiled, "Oh well you know, chasing maddening hints, rereading well written parts, hypothesizing about Snapes intentions. The usual thing any of us would be doing."

"Good luck with Snape, I personally have never been able to figure him out."

"Not one of your favorites?"

"Ha! Definitely not."

She smiled at that, "Yes he is a nasty piece of work, isn't he? Nevertheless, I still think he might be innocent. Will be innocent."

"How can you say that?" He asked, curiously.

"Purely an instinctual guess, you might say."

He shifted his focus back to the counter, "Best type."

She remained silent for a moment "What made you love them?"

"Sorry?" He processed the question in about seven different ways, how did she - ?

"The books?" He imperceptibly relaxed in relief, strange how the word Love could invoke the highest of tensions in him now, "All the fans love them."

"Well obviously…"

"No, wait, you're defining it wrong. You're thinking of the obsessions, the fanatical "I Love you Harry" groupies. I'm talking about real love, in each reader, underneath all that." She raise the book up, Harry saw the drawn picture of him and Dumbledore, and felt a tug in his chest. She continued, "Do you know why so many love _Harry Potter_? Each and every fan finds a connection to him, each and every one wants to be somehow swept away into this world, wonderful and magical. Each and every fan cares about the characters as f they were real people. These books, if you don't mind my phrasing, are charmed. Charmed without intellect and complexity, charmed with humanity and love."

Of all the people to strike a conversation with today.

"But.." He started painstakingly, "But what if it doesn't end … right?"

The woman smiled.

"Do you have a right ending planned?"

"Yes, it sort of ran its course on its own"

"Then you'd better well realise that you are in no control over your fate in these books. We all adhere to the powerful JK. Whom no one, in any direction, can sway." She smirked at her words.

He allowed worry to paint his face for a minute. Sixteen hours left.

This did not escape the woman's notice.

"You are unusually preoccupied with the ending."

"I'd be miserable if certain things became true."

She looked understanding, "Tell me, why do you love the books."

A pause. _Think Harry, any reason. _"Destiny." _Ingenious really, make yourself sound barking mad. Idiot. _

At least it made the woman laugh, "Alright, if your not up to sharing." She chuckled some more, "But let me tell you this. What you fear is not another ending, or your characters disappearing. You fear the unknown."

"Go on, please."

"Right now, you have absolutely no idea what went on through that authoress" mind, and what she put on ink and paper. You now come to the realization. It is over, very over, and soon you will know. Knowledge is always a burden, and ignorance will simply torment you at this stage. There is no turning back now. There is no premature end to this journey. It is too captivating, too magical for any true journeyman to turn their back on. However in every journey, a traveler will lose control. Do you see what I mean? You sit here, with sixteen hours to spare, staring your finale in the face because you have all these contradictions spread all over. You desperately want to know, but you never want it to end. You grasp for finality, for closure, and yet you grope for any way to exert some control over this circumstance. You are terrified of opening that book and reading, because it means that it will end. And you cannot face that most of all."

A soft breeze, played around Harry's head, and he lightly touched it, keeping the scar unobtrusive, "You've given this a lot of thought."

"My childhood ends in sixteen hours. I had to come to terms to it."

She looked very wise right then.

"What can anyone do?"

"Allow yourself to go through with them. Grab the story and ride along with it, let it sweep you along, and don't fight. Sometimes, battles are not meant to be fought at all."

"All this from a fan?"

She laughed again, "A fan with massive, meticulous analyses into why and how she came to love a children's book. It is my own personal way of enjoying them. Then again, I had Dumbledore helping me. I always quite liked his speeches about immortality and death being another great adventure. She always knew what phrases to use for him."

"The old codger." He said with a smile. _I was braver ten years ago. No doubt about it._

"I'll wager Harry's very admirable in this last one. Charging into battle, nobly and bravely."

"I was extremely like him when I was young." He stated, "He'll grow up to be more mellow."

"I doubt that very much." She said firmly.

It was the rigidity in her voice which piqued Harry's interest, "Oh?"

"People like him do not "go mellow" as you put it. He may think it in the future, after all this disruption, he may find that the lack of excitement has made him lackluster, but ask yourself this, would a grown up Harry ever ignore a bleeding man on the ground? Turn away and play oblivious to injustice? Never shout out what is right from the rooftops because of embarrassment? No. He is extraordinary."

"You really think so?"

"Yes."

"I think you're giving him too much credit. Quite a bit too much."

"I agree, he is my favorite after all, and I do forgive his flaws more than others"."

"I forgive my flaws as well."

"Sometimes it is advisable to overcome them."

"It is difficult."

"Life will strike at you nevertheless."

"It's all really out of my hands. This book."

"It's out of mine and millions of others" too."

"And all of you – us – are dreading and are excited as much as I am."

"Now, really join us in the ride."

Almost… Fifteen Hours Left!

"I'll do it!" He stood up, "I'll let this run its course. I'll face the aftermath. I'll go through the rushes and tears, a million times more! I'll go, Harry Potter, once again!"

The woman was indeed excited by her companions" surge of enthusiasm. She had always wanted to inspire such a reaction in someone. Then, quite a remarkable thing happened, he turned towards her, and she could swear that she could almost make out… yes definitely! … make out a lighting bolt shaped… scar!

But he bolted down the street before she could inquire into this.

As for Harry, he was skipping and jumping with the joy of relief. He would let things finalise, he didn't have to ensure everything was as it is. If fate would have him controlled, so be it.

_Let it be._

_You'll be no different._

Now, there was only one more item to be taken care of.

He was ready for _Harry Potter's _Finale


	7. Fin

_Anything you recognise is copywright JK Rowling and the company which butchered her books into those movies. Enjoy._

Chapter 7 – Fin

This time, he walked to her residence, this time, he rang the doorbell, and this time, he greeted his author with a cheery smile.

Once they had sat down they discussed the ending, the books, Harry's life, and various oddments about life.

'Snape never died.' He finally.

She looked up, a bit surprised, 'Well… that means quite a lot in terms of this situation.'

'He's gone now though,' He told her. 'It's weird, someone who I've respected for the past ten years and had long conversations with, has suddenly dissapeared. Vanished into thin air although I was sitting opposite him in a coffee shop a week ago.'

'That must be…'

'Strange, yes.' His hand found its way to the teacup in front of him, which he fiddled with absentmindedly, 'So my world turns out to be completely dependent on you.'

Nothing was said. But Harry was content nevertheless.

'Don't worry about it so much. I've made my peace with the books. The last one was brilliant.' He grinned.

She smiled back, 'How is your son?'

'Al's fine.' He said, the vision of the green eyed little baby filling his mind, he leaned across the table to stare intently at the author, 'Can you ever believe this?'

'I wonder Harry, if it is singular.'

'Maybe. But let's not talk about that now. It's the end of another tiring episode of my life, one which, at the end, I realise, I should have just stood aside and watched.'

'It's been an obsession?'

'I've been like one of your fans with those books. Analysing, looking for the signs, waiting until it's really over. Now I'm just… at peace with the whole thing.'

A soft breeze played its way to the garden, sending small ripples across the tea's surface.

Harry noted the utter tranquility of it all. Calm as a baby's slumber. There was much to think about, much to live for, a lot to love, and a lot to remember. At long last, resolution had arrived, and love had triumphed. Harry absent-mindedly rubbed his scar.

All was well.

----

A/N:

_Thank you Harry, for ten years of magic._

_May Severus Snape always be remembered._

_And much gratitude must be expressed to you dear readers, for reading this._

_But most of all thank you JK, for sharing your world._

_Fin_


End file.
